


The Reflecting God

by TheLastNero



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alchemy, Could Be Canon, Eldritch Bill Cipher, God Bill Cipher, Loosely inspired by The Road to El Dorado, M/M, Mesoamerican AU, Minor Character Death, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spanish Inquisition, Tentacles, Triangle Bill Cipher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastNero/pseuds/TheLastNero
Summary: The year is 1519. In an attempt to create the Philosopher’s Stone, Dipper finds himself on a Spanish expedition to the New World. However, when he loses himself in the jungles of the Aztec Empire, a chance encounter has him mistaken as a god to its natives.The real god he accidentally impersonated? Well, he's simultaneously amused and unamused at Dipper's predicament, and is only too willing to take advantage of the situation for his own gain. If only that damn axolotl would stop interfering.





	The Reflecting God

“When you enter the land the Lord, your God, is giving you, do not learn to imitate the detestable ways of the nations there--”

Two pairs of hands grasped his wrists, tied his ankles.

“Let no one be found among you who sacrifices their son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium, or spiritist, or who consults the dead--”

From thumb to toe, the ropes rubbed his flesh increasingly raw.

“Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord; because of these same detestable practices the Lord, your God, will  _ drive  _ out those nations before you.”

His bare skin horripilated, body wracked in shivers.

The priest did not spare him a glance, the conquistadors by his side blocking any escape beyond the one  in front of him-- into the shadowed lake. 

“Should the water reject him and spurn his baptism in the eyes of the Lord, his alliance with the black arts and the great adversary will be proven infallibly.”

He doubted he could survive alone in the thick of the jungle that surrounded them, even if he could break free and somehow outrun his captors. 

“If he shall sink, may he rest at peace in the Lord’s eternal paradise.”

They held his ropes tightly, dangling him over the edge of their makeshift dock. 

“If anyone does not speak according to the word of God, they have no light of dawn.”

Once, he was submerged in the lake, before being raised to the surface once more, gasping for breath.

“Distressed and hungry, they will roam through the land; when they are famished, they will become enraged and, looking upward, will curse their king and their God.” 

Twice. 

“Then they will look toward the earth and see only distress and darkness and fearful gloom, and they will be thrust into utter darkness.”

With that, Dipper was submerged a third time. The hands let go of his bindings, and Dipper plunged into the depths of the lake. 

 

* * *

 

It began with a dream. Not a dream of his own making, a dream of the ambitious sort, no-- an actual dream, such as the ones that manifest in one’s mind only in the deepest of sleeps where one is almost dead to the living world.

His great uncle Ford had been the one to experience it, to receive what he had interpreted as an otherworldly push in the right direction. At least, that was his claim. If such a dream had come to Dipper, he would have been uncertain of whether to pursue such a thing. He would have questioned himself, worried and wondered if he was merely imagining it. However, it was Ford that had experienced it, had been so sure of what he had seen in his dream. With him being able to take what he had seen and compare it to his decades of scholarship and study, there was no questioning anything-- it  _ had _ to be important, and it  _ had _ to be investigated. 

Dipper trusted him unquestioningly. Ford, as his teacher, had never failed him yet. He had taught Dipper the sciences, mathematics, philosophy, and even his more…  _ experimental _ fields of study that, while benevolent in theory, might have turned the church’s gaze nonetheless. 

_ Alchemy. _

The only legal mysticism there was, these days. The Spanish Inquisition was still in full swing and murmurs of witches and their heresies had only grown in numbers. Dipper almost felt sorry for leaving Mabel back home in England when he and Ford left to pursue their studies in Spain. He was only grateful that she had never been as entrenched in Ford’s work as he was-- after all, women outnumbered men by almost twenty to one when it came to those accused of witchcraft. 

Although, what exactly counted as  _ witchcraft  _ was horribly vague in definition. The fact that Ford, for all his notoriety in England’s universities, had never been accused of such a thing, while those poorer and less respected hadn’t been so lucky, wasn’t lost on Dipper. That wasn’t to say they hadn’t had any close encounters or any suspicion thrown their way. When they arrived in Spain, however, there had been a promise of a blank slate. Ford would have his credentials from studying at Oxford recognized, yet the worst he’d have to deal with wouldn’t be his reputation, but more likely the fact that he was an englishman. He could study in peace, without threat of being called a heretic. 

That had been when the dreams had first started, Ford had told him, although Dipper wasn’t too certain. His grunkle had been acting odd even before they left, but that could have been for a number of reasons.

It was only six months after they’d settled in the port city of Seville and started working at the university that Ford finally told him the actual contents of the dreams.

“...it’s the final piece, it just has to be.”

“What is, Grunkle Ford?” 

Dipper looked up from his book to find Ford entering the library. The elder man immediately began pacing the shelves, finger dusting against the books as he searched for  _ something. _

“The Stone.”

“The--” Dipper sputtered. His book fell, forgotten, as he immediately stood from his chair, the wood squeaking against the floor.

Ford pulled a book out of the shelf in a fluid motion. He flipped through its pages only to start nodding at its contents.

“Yes… that must be it…” He shut the book and placed it back just as quickly. “Three plans, three sides, but only  _ one _ point… Dipper.”

“Yeah?” He blinked rapidly.

Ford waved Dipper over as he walked out the library door. “Come with me.”

He led them through the bustling streets of Seville until they reached the pier. Towering ship masts lined the shore, people scurrying on and off decks transporting Dipper could only imagine. He could almost taste the salt in the air from the ocean’s spray.

Ford leaned against a wooden rail, staring into the distance.

“Dipper, I have to tell you something,” said Ford. 

After the display he’d just seen, Dipper was both worried and dreadfully curious. He stepped beside Ford.

“Much of my work is unfinished, as we both know. Much of it will remain unfinished. I can’t-- I can’t live forever. That is why I began teaching you, after all--” he glanced toward Dipper, before turning back to the ocean-- “But this.  _ This  _ I will complete. With  _ your  _ help.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone.”

Dipper had no words. He’d thought-- he’d thought he’d misheard him earlier, in the library. They had been stumped for at least a year now, as were their peers and betters, although not for lack of trying. The task to create an object of such legends was tall, and seemingly, no ladder could reach it.

Was Ford that much of a genius?

Ford continued. “I saw it-- it was a dream. I may not have been entirely honest when I brought you here, in terms of why.”

“You-- you said we had to leave Oxford because--” Dipper finally sorted his thoughts into words, but he was still  _ beyond  _ confused.

“To protect your sister, yes. That isn’t to say our leaving wasn’t to her benefit, but it wasn’t the only reason. What led us here, however… was a blueprint.”

“It kept recurring in my dreams, night after night, an image of a cathedral with a pattern overlaying it.” Ford frowned and shook his head. “The pattern was unlike anything I had ever seen, but I recognized the alchemical symbols. The way it was laid out, however… It was indecipherable to me, until I felt the compulsion to visit an old colleague of mine.”

“A… compulsion?” asked Dipper, wide-eyed.

“I can’t explain it-- it was almost as though there was a voice telling me, in my dreams, that I needed to speak with him, and when I did… We caught up, discussed our research, and he’d mentioned  _ just _ having been to the a cathedral in Seville, mentioned having seen a peculiar tablet they’d found in a language no one could recognize, let alone translate… It was then I decided our research on the Stone would be best continued here, where we could have direct access to it and I could speak with others who were studying its scripture.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want you thinking we’d come here on some whim or… outlandish fantasy. Would you have believed me if before if I’d told you I’d seen this in a dream?”

_ Maybe. _

“Well, you’re telling me now--” Dipper gave an awkward smile and scratched the back of his neck.

Ford grinned. “ _ That’s _ because I’ve cracked the code.”

...

The scholars had thought the tablet had been ancient Egyptian, but the hieroglyphs had appeared nonsensical. It was as if someone had looked at the written language and bastardized it with no care for the language’s integrity. It was written in hieroglyphs, but no matter how many translators called in who knew the language, at least, whatever was  _ left _ of the language, it didn’t decipher. That, as Grunkle Ford explained to Dipper as they walked to the cathedral, was because it wasn’t Egyptian.

It was Latin, written in the Egyptian alphabet. Beyond that, it wasn’t normal Latin. It was  _ enciphered  _ Latin, but not just any old Caesar cipher with a single shifted letter--  _ several _ shifted letters. 

Whatever ancient people had engraved that tablet had gone to great lengths to conceal its true message. 

But Ford? Apparently  _ knew  _ the code word to solve it all.

“ _ Venus _ .”

They left for the cathedral with Ford’s journals. Behind a single door lied the tablet, roped off.

Ford copied the structures and diagrams into his journal as Dipper could only gape at the speed in which this had all escalated. When the diagram was finished, Ford began deciphering the text.

“...calcination, dissolution, separation… conjunction, fermentation… distillation, coagulation…”

Dipper’s heart was thumping frantically against his chest and it became difficult to swallow. “Don’t we already know that?”

“No, there’s more. It’s--”  A gleam could be seen in Ford’s eyes, peering through his glasses-- “This will work. I’m sure of it. Now for the materials...”

Dipper tried to wait patiently, despite his excitement. However, as Ford began deciphering the final few words, Dipper could tell something was wrong. 

Ford’s quill slowly stopped on the page of his journal.

“What… does it say?” 

Ford frowned, pausing before speaking. “The blood of a priest.”

Morbid, but not unobtainable. 

“A gilded king.”

...What?

“And…” Ford’s brow furrowed.

He was almost afraid to ask. “And what, Grunkle Ford?”

“The eyes of a god.” 

Dipper almost thought he’d misheard him. But as Ford turned to look at him, the pain in his eyes was too real to be anything else. 

Ford didn’t joke with him about stuff like that. Stan, maybe, but never Ford. 

Was this six months of study down the drain, just to decipher complete nonsense? Metaphorical metaphysics that wouldn’t yield any sort of tangible result? Some twisted joke passed through the ages to reward all their hard work?

Dipper’s mind raced. There had to be some way this could work, s _ ome _ way it wouldn’t all go to waste-- Except he was drawing a blank. 

Ford sighed and started packing his journal away. Dipper kept quiet as he followed him out of the cathedral and, presumably, back home.

He couldn’t stop thinking as they walked, however. It was both frustrating and anxiety-inducing, but he couldn’t help but try to rationalize things even in the face of complete and utter irrationality. 

They were almost home and hadn’t yet spoken a word when Ford stopped. 

“I have to pick up something from the Guerrero’s. You can go on without me.” 

Dipper nodded and continued on as he watched Ford make a left into the city and fade out of view.

Something inside him felt too restless to be content going straight home. He knew he’d probably sink into bed and start staring at his ceiling, doing nothing of any real use. Not like he’d be doing anything useful loitering around, taking a stroll, but Ford had always told him an active body leads an active mind.

He drifted toward the pier once more, just in time to see a ship take off. It pushed through the ocean until it disappeared on the horizon, seemingly falling off the end of the earth.

Well, not literally. Everyone knew the earth was  _ round,  _ Dipper snorted to himself. 

The sun was starting to come down and Dipper had figured it was about time to head back home, when he heard it.

“Yeah, we’re lookin’ for  _ El Dorado.” _

The phrase caught his attention immediately, the last two words said with such emphasis that they  _ must  _ be important.

El Dorado. The Golden One. 

“Cortés don’t pay much, but he promises we’ll get more ‘pendin’ on what we find in the New World. S’posed to be  _ lots _ of gold.”

Dipper stopped, glancing toward the man speaking. 

Some rough looking guy was talking to another person Dipper would not want to meet in a back alley, both wearing a light metal armor of some kind. As Dipper took a look around, he could see a few more men wearing a similar uniform.

“The Queen says we gotta take the priests, but honestly? They’re prolly gettin’ paid more than us. We meet any o’ the local savages, they’re more likely to try to kill us than listen to a sermon.”

Both men laughed crudely, and Dipper couldn’t help but cringe.

They meandered off into some other topic of conversation, but Dipper was still stuck on that single mention of  _ El Dorado _ . Whatever  _ that  _ was.

It’s not like he could just go up to them and  _ ask.  _ It probably wasn’t some huge secret if they were chatting about it dockside, but that didn’t mean Dipper was just going to waltz up to some shady looking stranger and blatantly tell them how naive he is to whatever they’re involved with.

He could wait and listen but who knew how long  _ that’d  _ take.

“‘Scuse me, man, but you got a handkerchief or something I can borrow real quick?”  

Dipper almost jumped. “Huh?” He took a step back to assess the owner of the voice in front of him.

The guy was big, but not in a super intimidating sort of way. Maybe a little goofy, if anything.

The stranger began to rub the back of his neck apologetically, but withdrew his hand when he realised he was probably spreading whatever was on his hands around. They were covered in some brown substance Dipper didn’t even want to imagine the origin of. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya. You just look like the kind of guy who’d be carrying around something like that, ya know?”

“Uh… yeah, sure,” Dipper said slowly, cautiously reaching a hand into his back pocket for the item while keeping a confused eye on the person in front of him. “Here.”

“Thanks, man.” The guy gave him a thumbs-up before taking the handkerchief and cleaning his hands. 

Dipper frowned, scrunching his nose. “What… is that?”

“Oh, it’s just whale oil, don’t worry.” The guy waved him off, folding the handkerchief into a small triangle. “Anyway, now that my hands’re clean, let me shake yours. The name is Soos. Well, Jesús. Jesús Alzamirano Ramirez. But just Soos is fine.” He tried to hand the handkerchief back.

“Ah-- you can keep that.” Dipper did, however, take his offered hand and shook it. Soos’ grip was reminiscent of a dead fish. “Dipper Pines.” He almost braced himself for the questioning of his nickname. It didn’t come.

“Say, you aren’t related to the Stanford Pines guy, are ya? Pines isn’t any name I’ve heard before besides him.”

Dipper nodded. “That’s my great-uncle, yeah. We’re from England. Here to study.” He glanced toward the other guys in the armor who were still dawdling around, then back to Soos.

“Now England, she’s got some nice ships,” said Soos appreciatively. “You won’t hear anyone around here admit it, but we tend to go quantity over quality. You guys are kinda the opposite though. I can respect that.”

Dipper snickered. “Maybe, though I doubt we could handle a war with you guys.” 

Soos smiled. “Never know.” 

A thought occurred to Dipper. This might prove an opportunity to ask some questions. Soos didn’t seem that bad. “So... you work on a ship, I’m guessing?”

“Yup, got that right. I’m a mechanic onboard  _ San Lazaro.  _ That beauty over there.” He nodded of in the direction of some ship that honestly looked the same as every other one in the shipyard, at least to Dipper. “We’re heading out in a couple days. We were supposed to be leaving in a couple weeks, but the boss got  _ real  _ rattled by something, so now we’re in a rush to get everything together and leave as soon as possible.”

“Huh. What do you think that was about?”

Soos clicked his tongue. “Beats me. Heard he had a falling out with his governor though.”

Dipper frowned. “Hey, Soos? Have you ever heard of El Dorado?”

“Ha! Who hasn’t-- Oh wait, guess you haven’t, since you’re, you know, asking and all,” Soos said sheepishly. “It’s this old legend the sailors have. I don’t know how old it is, but it really kicked up a notch when Columbus came back. They  _ used _ to think it was near India, but now it’s the New World, I guess.”

“But what  _ is _ El Dorado, exactly?” Dipper asked, almost frantically.

“Some people say it’s a city of gold, where even the people are made of it. Whatever it is, no one’s found it yet, if it even exists. People say there’s a lot of gold across the pond, but that might just be talk to get the conquistadors over there.” Soos shrugged.

People… made of gold. Perhaps--

“Is there a specific person who  _ is  _ El Dorado? The Golden One?” Dipper probed. “My spanish isn’t the best, but it feels odd to call an entire city that.”

Soos cocked his head questioningly. “Yeah, you’re probably right. The legend used to be about some king, but then it became about his city  _ and _ his people, then his entire kingdom and all tha-- huh? Are you alright, man?”

_ A gilded king. _

It couldn’t possibly be, but… Was this all a coincidence? What were the chances of such a legend existing alongside Ford’s translation? And Dipper learning of them on the very same day?

It was absolutely crazy, but--

If Ford could follow his  _ own  _ brand of crazy improbabilities to Spain, well… Weren’t Dipper’s own improbabilities just as valid? Especially with him having been led there  _ due _ to Ford’s huge string of  _ what ifs  _ and  _ perhapses _ .

This didn’t solve the issue of him needing the  _ eyes _ of a god, but if a gilded king was possible and fate had seemingly led Dipper to discover its existence, then how  _ improbable _ could it possibly be? 

Because whatever happened from then on,  _ improbable _ didn’t necessarily have to mean  _ impossible _ .

“Your boss wouldn’t happen to be looking for any extra hands, would he?” 

...

Before he’d left for the New World on the  _ San Lazaro,  _ having convinced some captain that  _ yes _ , he was totally licensed to play medic to some fifty conquistadors, and  _ yes, _ he would take half pay, Ford had pulled him aside just as his things were being thrown into cargo.

“I want you to take this with you, Dipper.” 

Dipper went wide-eyed as Ford held out his journal. “You’re giving this to me?”

Ford smiled. “Consider it a going away present. Who knows how long you’ll be. It’s merely common sense to let you have the blueprint so you don’t have to wait to return in order to--”

See if it truly worked or not? 

“Thanks, Grunkle Ford.” 

“You’re welcome, Dipper. There may be more information in there that may help you once you get out there as well. Just promise me one thing.” Ford’s tone turned somber. Glancing over his shoulder toward the ship, his voice lowered. “Don’t let it out of your sight. Don’t let  _ anyone _ see it. I can’t possibly imagine what this kind of information could do in the wrong hands.”

Dipper nodded. “I promise.”

Ford slapped him on the back and gently pushed him toward the direction of the  _ San Lazaro.  _ “Now go.”

…

Dipper had been  _ so _ careful. He had only brought out the journal when he knew for certain he was alone, usually in the middle of the night whilst on the ship. In order to save candles, he’d go topside and use the light of the moon to read. Sure, he’d be a little sleepy during the day, but there wasn’t exactly anything causing the ship’s inhabitants to seek out medical care beyond their own stupidity, or the anger of the man they’d started some brawl with whilst drunk.

It was once they’d finally reached New Spain that Dipper had encountered difficulties. Staying up all night to read was no longer feasible, now that he actually had to work during the day. So, he started stealing away at opportune moments when his work wasn’t needed, and when the appeal of listening to the soldiers chat about current explorations was lesser. 

He’d assumed he’d be safe to read, tucked away in the corner of his tent as the sun began to set. If anyone needed any aid, they would have came before their dinner rations. He’d assumed be able to hear the clink of armor if anyone decided to approach his tent to deliver a message, or anything of the sort.

The priest had slipped inside his tent surreptitiously, his robes completely silent as they brushed against the ground. 

One look was all it took.

 

* * *

 

He sunk with his eyes pointed to the surface of the water, where the black of the night sky reflected like a mirror, just allowing him to make out the north star.

It dimmed as the water glossed over his eyes. Whatever light that had shined before, above land, had been doused the moment the water had soaked Dipper’s head. The fire of the torches wielded by the mob that had shown up at his tent, that had frightened him so, that had made him question whether he was to be burned at the stake, were a distant memory now. 

Would he have rather been burned alive than drowned? Dipper wasn’t sure. He held his breath as he sunk deeper and deeper, and as his lungs began to protest from lack of air, he imagined that he might have felt a similar feeling had he been placed on a stake to burn. The smoke would cloud his vision, eventually stealing his breath and suffocating him. The only real difference would be the flames licking against his skin below. At least the water wasn’t too painful. It was cold, as it always was in the night air, but peaceful.

Dipper’s body felt heavier than it did before, his mind becoming equally as sluggish. Everything was fuzzy-- he couldn’t see a foot in front of him, and the urge to relax his lids and close his eyes became too much to bear. 

His eyes finally shut, and the mere darkness gradually became black. It was almost contenting, until something brushed past his leg-- not  _ wet _ , but slippery and slimy. Dipper’s lids twitched ever so slightly, and he could have sworn he saw a bright, blush pink light before he couldn’t think anymore and his mind finally escaped him. 

...

An odd figure swam across his vision-- small and fishlike, white and pink. As Dipper’s vision came back into focus, he could make out tiny limbs on the creature.

It swam through white and more white, almost blending into its surroundings, only to turn toward Dipper and meet his gaze. What he had thought were black eyes were more like pits in the creature’s flesh that only mimicked such a thing.

Dipper couldn’t feel himself blink, couldn’t feel his heart beat, nor his body shiver, or anything at all for that matter. 

He looked forward with an inhuman detachment. No fear, no worry, no anger, no peace. Maybe mild curiosity. 

The creature swam to his right and his eyes followed, but his head didn’t. He realised the image he was seeing didn’t quite match up to what he would be seeing from his eyes, instead being slightly above his own body.

It swam circles around him, almost playfully, before finally settling down in front of him, staring at Dipper with those black pits once more. 

Words spilled out of his mouth without any thought on his part. Could he even think to begin with? 

“Where am I?” Neutral, neither cold nor warm.

“ _ Space and time between space and time, _ _  
_ _ Between life and death do you climb _ .” 

A pink tongue stuck out of the creature’s mouth slightly. It didn’t seem to move as it spoke to Dipper. Was it communicating telepathically?

“Can I leave this place?” Dipper asked. 

Somehow, he already felt like he was leaving. Leaving  _ something _ , that is. His body? Wherever they were? He knew he  _ wanted _ to leave, and that want was the only thing he could currently act on.

The creature didn’t blink. Its mouth didn’t move.

_ “Follow advice of dogs of fish. _ __  
_ Then you will get your one true wish. _ __  
_ In a space and time, void and beyond, _ __  
_ Xolotl saved one, as death dawned. _ __  
_ Sixty degrees that come in threes. _ __  
_ Watches from within birch trees. _ __  
_ Saw his own dimension burn. _ __  
_ Misses home and can't return. _ __  
_ Says he's happy. He's a liar. _ __  
_ Blame the arson for the fire. _ __  
_ If he wants to shirk the blame, _ __  
_ He'll have to invoke my name. _ __  
_ One way to absolve his crime. _ __  
_ A different form, a different time. _   
_ Now and here does he arrive, _ _  
_ __ Here and now he can’t contrive.”

A single bubble escaped its mouth, floating up, up, and out of sight-- then another. The white surrounding them dimmed as more bubbles filled Dipper’s vision, and a sensation he could only recognize as  _ falling _ overtook him.

 

* * *

 

Dipper woke with a gasp as his chest something  _ hard _ , and he stuck his arms out to push against whatever he’d hit.

He flailed for a moment, before realising he’d simply landed face-first in the mud.

“Ugh.” He spit out the dirt in his mouth, before standing up and deciding to take a look around.

No real landmarks marked his location, beyond the body of water behind him. where he had woken up. At least, where he thought he’d woken up. Now that he thought about it, he did feel quite damp, but he wasn’t soaking wet. The sun was rising from the other side of the lake, just barely winking above the treeline of the jungle. 

It was morning.

Did… any of that really happen? He could have sworn he had… drowned. Yet there he was, no worse for wear, sitting in the mud without even a rope burn on his wrist.

But where  _ was _ he? 

This was  _ not  _ a good situation to be in, in his opinion. He couldn’t show his face back at camp even if he knew where it was, because then he  _ knew _ they’d take that as some irrefutable evidence he was an actual witch. So there went his source of food and whatever semblance of protection the conquistadors offered. That also included his medical supplies, his personal items, his--

The journal. 

He facepalmed. He  _ needed  _ the journal back. He didn’t have the blueprint memorized. Not only that but he’d promised Ford--

Dipper let out a sigh before walking forward into the underbrush. It might have been a good idea to take a look around, but he had to set up somewhere to sleep. Get a feel for the area, before he had to come up with some plan to get the journal back.

Taking a quick look behind him toward the lake, he took a cautious step into the jungle--

Only to trip over some massive tree root.

“Oof.” Well. That was a good start. More mud on his face to match the mud on his body.

Although, it was kind of cool when he let his face just rest there. Weren’t mud masks a thing? Maybe Mabel knew something about that. 

Something in his stomach tugged at the thought of his sister. 

He’d go back home eventually. However long it took-- Dipper grit his teeth and got up. He turned expecting to see the lake behind him, but--

“Where-- where did it go?”

Instead, only what appeared to be miles of jungle surrounded him no matter which way he turned. There was something wrong. He hadn’t walked  _ that _ far-- maybe only a few steps.

This whole thing was giving him a headache, not to even mention what it was doing to his anxiety. Was he going absolutely mad?

He brought his hands to his face, but recoiled upon realising the right side of his face was still covered in mud. Part of him wished he’d bought a new handkerchief before leaving Spain. 

A rustling in the nearby foliage made Dipper jump. Maybe it was time to start moving seriously-- if the environment around him didn’t decide it’d  _ also _ like to move around without him, that is.

He started walking once more in the direction that had been opposite that of the one leading to the lake when it had been there. Dipper didn’t know when, or even if, it would revert back, and he didn’t want to take any chances. Still. 

Walking through the jungle, even in broad daylight, left him feeling eerily unsafe without the protection of a few dozen men in armor with swords hanging around him. He didn’t know  _ what _ was out there.

Maybe he should try to make himself some kind of weapon? Sharpen a stick, or something? But with  _ what--  _ People usually used sharp rocks to do that kind of thing, right? 

Dipper glanced toward the ground, and-- oh. Well. That could work. Was that… an arrowhead? He reached down to pick it up, frowning at the item. 

A carved stone arrowhead. Nothing like what his people were using. 

“Hold.”

Dipper froze instantly at the unfamiliar voice, closing his fist around the arrowhead. The sharp tip bit into his skin.

The male spoke from behind him in an odd drawl, an accent Dipper had never heard in his life. It couldn’t be one of Cortés’ men, could it?

“And what might someone like you be doin’ out here in these parts?” The voice was deceptively upbeat, but it grated on Dipper’s ears nonetheless. “Or should I say…  _ Our parts. _ ”

Dipper gulped and turned--

In front of him was a short man in powder blue robes, whose expression went to utter shock as soon as he saw Dipper’s face.

“You- Agh--” he squealed and took a step back, before dropping to his knees. The man bowed, his eyes to the dirt. “Forgive me, oh possessor of sky and earth Tezcatlipoca. I am but a humble priest who cannot recognize his god when he sees him, please! I beg your mercy!”

Dipper shifted his eyes, but loosened his fist. “Uh. You’re forgiven?” What in the actual hell?

“I’m too young and handsome to die-- oh, well thank you.” He got up with a slight giggle. He seemed calm, at least for a moment, until he began shifting from foot to foot. “Is there anything you need? Anything at all? A sacrifice? Is somethin’ wrong?”

_ What to say, what to say--  _ “I-- am here on business,” Dipper tried to say believably. The man with the pig-like nose in front of him nodded, wide-eyed, seeming to hang on every word. Dipper cleared his throat and tried to stand tall. “I may require your services soon, but for now… Take me to your village?” He cringed inwardly as his voice cracked at that last part. He was  _ an adult _ now, that should have  _ stopped happening years ago-- _

A strange smile grew on the other man’s face. “Oh, I can do ya one better than that-- my lord,” he added at the last moment. “How’s ‘bout I take  _ you  _ to the capital?”

Dipper laughed nervously. “That works too.” Hopefully he wasn’t getting led to his  _ death _ or something like that-- maybe that was a new war tactic by the natives? It’d be effective, at least.

Wait. If this was a native… how could he speak English? 

“My name is Gideon, by the way,” he said as he led Dipper through the jungle. Somehow he was able to navigate through the endless trees with an unseen precision that only served to confuse Dipper. “You need anything around here, come to me first, you hear? It’s my job as high priest-- well, I’m not high priest  _ yet,  _ but I might as well be.” He waved him off.

This whole situation was odd, Dipper decided.  Questioning it further might just send him into an existential stupor. 

Suddenly, the trees thinned out, and they began following a dirt path. A stone house with a thatched roof came into view, then another. Fields of yellow grain lined the edges of the road, but seemingly disappeared up into the sky as the land elevated. Then, he saw it.

The closest thing he could compare it to was an Egyptian pyramid, with more steps, less sand, and taller pillars. And there wasn’t simply  _ one _ ; the way Dipper’s eyes were scanning rapidly across the sight in front of him, he couldn’t catch every single structure, but there had to be at least a dozen of what appeared to be temples.

The tallest, however, seemed to capture the light of the sun overhead, its rays beaming against the light stone, framing it.

“Welcome to Tenochtitlan,” said Gideon with a smirk.

**Author's Note:**

> Wooh, a new Gravity Falls long-fic. None of my old stuff is abandoned, just on-hold. Thanks you @maurey for betaing, and @monazomatu for sheer motivation to actually go through with this fic.  
> This will be around 10 chapters, 50k words or so.  
> And don't worry. Bill will be paying Dipper a visit next chapter ;)  
> As always, feel free to check out my tumblr @thelastnero. Make sure to kudos and bookmark your spot, and leave a comment if you can o/ Even a simple "I liked it" really boosts my motivation to write, so chapters will come out quicker.


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